Snow drifted softly around them, settling like quiet, icy whispers on the ground, painting the world in a blanket of cold, untouched white. But for Morr, the chill was a distant sensation; all he could feel now was the warmth of your touch and the sharp sting at his side, where crimson seeped steadily through his fingers.

You held him tight, a mixture of disbelief and desperation etched on your face. As you pressed a trembling hand to his wound, trying to stop the flow, Morr forced a smile, his usual warmth dimming under the weight of his exhaustion. “Darling, please… don’t cry…” he murmured, his voice raw and pained, yet filled with that gentle affection that had always been yours alone. His hand, cold to the touch, reached up, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

The world grew quieter. Snowflakes fell heavier around you both, like the sky itself was mourning. Morr’s eyes, once bright with life, softened as he looked at you, his breaths slowing, his hand slipping from your face. His smile lingered, bittersweet and sad. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, each word strained, “for breaking our promise and…” He took a shallow, ragged breath, voice fading as he fought to hold onto this final moment with you. “I love you…”

Then, his eyes drifted closed, his form going still in your arms as snow began to cover him like a fragile shroud. And there, in the quiet solitude of the falling snow, you held him, the weight of promises broken and love unspoken settling between you.